


Grace, too

by theimaginesyouneveraskedfor



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2019-09-10
Packaged: 2020-07-09 23:41:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19896301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theimaginesyouneveraskedfor/pseuds/theimaginesyouneveraskedfor
Summary: Based on this headcanon from an anon: Dark!Steve deciding stripper!reader is only going to dance for him from now on.The reader is a stripper and it’s her first night in a private show.Warnings: noncon sex, mentions of death. This is dark!Steve and explicit. 18+ only.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I can’t say why I wrote this or why I decided oh yeah, I don’t have enough to catch up already, let me just write a one shot outta nowhere. I feel, personally, like this is a pretty dark Steve so be weary. But enjoy! And let me know what you think in a comment. <3 It makes life as a writer a little less treacherous.

_How did you end up here?_ That was always the question you kept asking yourself but it often sounded like your mother’s voice in your head. She still didn’t know about it. The late nights, the strange men, the sparkly panties. You didn’t expect it to come to this but the thought ‘never me’ was rarely true. It was merely the human illusion of individual exception. The worst could befall any and all. Even after two degrees and a year abroad.

You’d tell your mom one day. Maybe when you found a ‘real’ job. Hopefully.

You couldn’t say you had grown comfortable in this place. Passive, maybe. Apathetic. The first night had been quite the opposite. You were jittering as you awaited your first dance. A foolish hobby in your uni days was now your livelihood. You had been naive, callous in your judgement. You joked about strippers and their desperation. Now you were one of them. Karma in action.

Despite almost falling off the stage and a few slips on the pole, the dollar bills added up. Each night you stacked up more and more. At the end of the month, you were able to pay two month’s rent. Some breathing room. Figuratively. When you were dancing, it wasn’t so easy. You caught yourself holding your breath as the spins made you peculiarly dizzy.

It was second nature now. A lap dance was no longer crippling and stage shows were actually fun. Lena helped you practice and taught you the art of detachment. _Don’t be here, be somewhere else._ This place was like a dream; once you left, it wasn’t real. At least, it felt as much.

The first hour of your shift was serving. Bra and panties, heels, and a tray. Tips were good but not as steady as the stage. The men snuck their none so subtle gropes and the bouncers loomed close as they growled in warning. Slip a bill in but don’t pinch. One man had already been tossed.

When Lena arrived to take your tray, Celia appeared behind her. The small dressing room sat nestled between the stage and the long hallway of private rooms. Celia was a favourite among the VIPs. She wasn’t happy. 

“Goddamn!” She tossed her bra on the bench next to you. Her perky tits bounced as she sat down heavily. “Fucking loonies are out tonight.”

“What’s up?” Lena wiped the tray as you changed into your show attire. You were eager to get on stage and collect your haul.

“This dude...I swear.” She huffed and leaned back on the bench. “He was here last week. Totally silent. It’s like he didn’t even see me. I mean, tipped well enough but...I dunno.” She shook her head, “I don’t see what he’s getting out of this.”

“Well, that doesn’t sound so bad,” Lena scoffed. “Last time I was in VIP, Danny ended up dragging the client out by his neck. I mean, you expect ‘em to be handsy considering the rate but this guy…”

“I can’t. Not worth it. He wasn’t even on my roster but Shannon tried her hand first and...same thing. I told her I’d switch but now I gotta explain to Leo why he’s short a fee.” Celia tapped her fingers. She needed a smoke. Her lip was starting to curl.

You swallowed and looked to Lena. She muttered an ‘oh well’ and lifted the tray. You’d never been in the VIP rooms. You were still new and you had yet to be requested. You chewed the inside of your cheek and looked to the door.

“I...can try?” You offered weakly. “I mean, I dunno. I’ve never really, um…”

“Really?” Celia turned to you and Lena paused halfway to the door.

“Might as well start now,” Lena grinned. “And Leo won’t be too happy about another short.”

“I dunno,” Celia picked at her nails. She was anxious. Fidgety.

“How much did he tip last time?” You asked.

“Whew, enough that I’d consider a second,” Celia said. “If you cover me, I’ll take your show. I’m already on thin ice after what happened with Gino.”

“You got off easy,” Lena commented, “ _Unlike_ Gino.”

“Don’t remind me,” Celia reached for her bra, “Just give me a couple minutes for a smoke and I’m good to go if you are.”

“Yeah?” Your stomach was fluttering like it had that first night. _What was this urge in you that made you so foolishly helpful?_ “Okay, I’ll just go now...maybe he’s already gone.”

“Maybe,” Celia shrugged and Lena continued on to the door. “Let me know and we’ll split tips.”

“Alright,” You agreed and took a deep breath. You hitched up your tits in your bra and smiled. Tried to, at least. _What were you doing?_ Really, you had no idea.

-

There were two doors to each private room. An entrance for the clients and one for the dancers. A small lit stage before a cushioned bench. Some shows had more than one VIP; bachelor parties or other odd pairs.

You knocked before you entered. That was dumb. You gulped and edged the door open. He may have left after Celia’s sudden departure. You hoped not. You’d bartered half your tips on him, if not more.

A dark silhouette sat stoic on the bench. Unmoving as you shut the door softly behind you. You stepped up into the fuschia light and slipped into your alias; _Cherie._ French, sophisticated. Remember what Lena said. _Be somewhere else._ You weren’t on the low platform, you were on Broadway, playing a role. You’re favourite musical, _Chicago._

You smiled and tried to see the man through the shadows. The dark blue lights on his end of the room had been shut off. He was a shadow. _Faceless. Was he really there?_ You slinked to the center of the stage. 

The low sultry music filled the dearth. It was barely enough to stifle the tension. You didn’t blame Celia for running. Certianly you blamed yourself for coming.

“I’m Cherie,” You began to sway. It was like a lap dance but at a distance. You were almost afraid to get close to him. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

He didn’t answer. You hid your discomfort and the fuschia light glared in your eyes. You kept your smile in place and subtly pushed your tits up. _What did he want?_ He sighed. Well, you were assured that he was in fact alive.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to talk,” You assured him. “I know a lot of men don’t come here to talk. Life’s hard…” You kept up your little shimmy, you bent and traced the curve of your leg with your gloved hand. Still, no answer. Your heart hammered in your ears. And yet it was too quiet. “You know, I used to go to this little cafe when I was lonely. I don’t even like coffee, I just wanted the company. Even if they were strangers.”

He didn’t answer. Didn’t even acknowledge that you had spoken. You spun and wiggled your ass to hide your cringe. If you’re biggest mistake was getting into this line of work, this was a close second. You turned slowly, the smile unwavering on your lips.

“What’s your real name?” His voice almost made you trip but you corrected yourself with a flourish of your arm. 

You blinked and considered his question. Lena had told you the rules. No touching, no numbers, and no real names. You hid the tremble as you stepped closer. You could see the outline of his jaw, the long nose, his broad shoulders.

“If you tell me yours, I’ll tell you mine,” You offered. 

He lowered his head and thought. “Steve,” He answered quietly. He clasped his hands together on his lap, his thumbs twiddled around each other. He was anxious.

You replied with your name. Lena didn’t need to know. “Can I get closer?” You asked. He swallowed and nodded. You stepped down of the small ledge of the platform. “Are you--did you want a lap dance?”

“None of the other girls would tell me their name,” He evaded your question. “They also don’t tell the truth. I can tell.”

“You can?” You wondered. You kept your hips in motion.

“You’re too honest for this work,” He said.

“How do you know I’m not lying?” You asked.

“When you told me your name was Cherie, there was little twitch in your throat.” He explained. “But when you told me your real name, there was no tic. Nothing outside the lingering tremble in your lip. I suspect that’s nerves.”

You stilled completely. You blinked at him as he slowly leaned forward, elbows on his widespread legs. His face was lit by the fuschia light, at last his features clearly limned. Even in the coloured light, his eyes were deep blue. His blonde hair was neatly parted and his square jaw was set.

Your smile fell. You lowered yourself onto the edge of the stage and sat. “Did you wanna...talk?” You bent your legs and crossed your arms over your legs.

“No, I’ve tried talking.” He lowered his gaze as he pulled his hands apart and examined the lines of his palm. “I’d like to listen.”

“Okay,” You tried to stay calm. A shiver went up your spine and you wondered if maybe now was the time to flee. There was a bouncer just outside the customer’s entrance. “I’m not quite sure...what to say.”

“Tell me about the cafe,” He urged. His blue eyes held yours. There was a genuine curiosity in them. And something else. You couldn’t place it. It wasn’t unlike the lust in the gaze of many patrons but not quite the same.

“It was this small place, just below my apartment,” You began hesitantly. He nodded. It was encouraging. “There was this little table I’d like to sit at in the corner. A little painting of kittens and yarn on the wall. This old lady name Essie owned the place.” You couldn’t help the smile. “I helped her fix the awning once.”

He remained silent. His eyes clung to the movement of your lips as you spoke. You didn’t want to stop because you didn’t want him to look anywhere else.

“I’d just…” You paused as you considered the word. _Ironic_. “Listen. I heard it all. A break-up; several, actually. A lot of people think coffee helps heartache I guess. First dates, proposals, confessions. It was all so much more exciting then my life. Books, study hall, and classrooms.” 

You shrugged and ran your nails along your arm. “It’s easy to pretend that others handle obstacles so much better than you but I’ve found that none of us really know what we’re doing. We’re resilient, not wise. I mean, look at me, I’m here in a strip club, when I should--” You stopped yourself. “I shouldn’t be telling you all this.”

You stood and he did too. The sudden movement frightened you and you stepped back. You tripped and fell onto the platform. Your ass hit the floor hard. He neared and knelt beside you. Close enough to touch but he didn’t.

“Are you hurt?” He asked.

“No,” You assured him as you sat up and gripped your lower back. “No pain that wasn’t already there.”

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” He said. “I just...didn’t want you to go.”

You nodded and he stared at his hand. He slowly turned it over and offered it to you. You pondered it a moment before you accepted it. He stood and pulled you up. His hand was so big compared to yours. He released it at once as if reprimanding himself. He turned and stepped down. He sat on the bench and once more clasped his hands together. His jaw ticked.

“Will you sit with me?” He asked. You barely heard him.

“Sure,” You followed and sat beside him. Two inches between you. “Thank you.”

He looked at you shyly. “I saw a man die yesterday. He was bad. He killed others. Would’ve killed a hundred more.” He hung his head and sighed. “I’m tired. I don’t wanna do it anymore.”

Silence. Again. A different sort of tension. You nodded and reached over to touch his shoulder. Gently, only fingertips at first until your palm was flat. It was firm; muscular. This man could break the bouncer at the door in half. “Then don’t.”

“It’s not that simple. That man’s death meant the lives of so many others. It’d be selfish to just run away.” He pulled his hands apart and leaned back. You rescinded your arm and rubbed your palms together anxiously. “Was it that obvious?”

“What?” You were almost whispering.

“That I’m lonely.” He replied.

“No, I just...assume most people who come here are,” You countered.

His hand shot out and grabbed yours. He turned to look at you. “You’re lying.”

“I--”

“I _am_ lonely,” He tugged your hand closer. He was just as strong as you expected. “And naive.” He pushed your hand down onto his thigh and held it there. “I didn’t come here to listen or talk.”

“Let go,” You pleaded gently. “Steve, please.”

He shifted your hand closer to his crotch and you felt the bulge there. You gasped and tried to pull away. You were too weak. 

“All I have to do is yell,” You kept your voice even. “You don’t want to do this, Ste--”

“Stop,” He released your hand and snaked his arm around your waist. His other hand clapped over your mouth. “I’m not good. I’m only the lesser of two evils.”

You gulped and reached up to touch his hand. You widened your eyes and tried to move his grip. He pushed you against the bench and leaned in. He smelled your hair as his nose tickled your hairline.

“Ever since they found me, I haven’t--” His voice was gritty in your ear as he inhaled deeply. “I’ve had women on their knees in front of me and I can’t stay fucking hard.” He wiggled his hips and rubbed his cock against your thigh. “You feel that? I’m so hard it hurts.”

You squeaked into his hand and he pressed harder.

“You know when it happened? The moment you told me your name. Your real name.” He pushed you flat along the bench as he angled himself over you. His arm slid up beneath your head. His erection was now pressed to your crotch. “Usually I’d be soft right now and she’d be on her way out.”

You pushed against his chest. He didn’t even flinch. He rocked his pelvis into yours and groaned. He slipped his arm from under your head and dragged his fingers between your shoulder blades. Your breath coated his palm as he kept his grasp firm across your lips. He pinched the clasp at the back of your bra and it went slack. You tried again to shove him away.

He brought his hand around to your shoulder and slid the strap down your arm. The cup fell away from your tit and he covered it with his hand. He fondled you gently at first, then kneaded and tweaked the nipple sharply. He was still hard and flush against you.

“You’re so beautiful,” He said as he nuzzled your cheek. You tried to turn your head but he held it firmly in place.

He reached down between you and his hand fumbled with the front of his pants. Button unhooked and zipper pushed down, you squirmed helplessly beneath him. His hand continued to move around but you couldn’t see past his thick fingers across your mouth. He lifted his pelvis and you felt a sudden prod along the front of your thong.

He pushed your legs apart until one hung off the edge of the bench. You whimpered and he pressed two fingers against your crotch. He rubbed you and felt you through the satin. 

He pulled the panties aside and you felt the thick head of his cock against your folds. He moved his hips so that his cock tickled your clit and slipped down along your lips. You held your breath as he pushed through to your entrance.

He stared into your eyes as he carefully thrust inside. He was big. Your walls stretched painfully and the deeper he got, the more it hurt. Tears rose at the corner of your eyes. You whined into his hand but couldn’t look away. His eyes were smokey, pupils dilated, intent on you and his cheek twitched as he filled you up. When he bottomed out, he shuddered.

“You’re so tight,” He whispered as he brushed the tip of his nose against yours. “Ah,” He rocked his hips, “You feel that. You’re so warm…” He bit his lip and pulled back. “You’re meant for me.” He slammed back in. “Oh, so good. So...sweet,” He bent his head as he lifted his hand from your mouth. His lips swiftly covered yours and he kissed you.

He thrust into you as if he was a lover. Delicate but firm. He forced his tongue inside your mouth and tasted you. He raised his head as he plunged into you with a groan and you were once more smothered by his large hand. 

He bowed his head just beside yours as his breath picked up. He grunted with each tilt of his hips. Each thrust came harder and harder. His pace mounted steadily until he was slamming into you with all his strength. He retreated to his tip only to crash back in to his limit. You mewled into his hand, your arms trapped between your bodies as you pushed against his chest.

“Fuck, fuck,” He swore in your ear, “God, you’re so good. So good.”

Your nails poked through the lace of your gloves and into his shirt. You tried to resist the heat building deep within. How his cock reached every part of you. A shock ran through your body every time he rocked his hips. 

You closed your eyes and turned your head away from him. Your body tensed as the orgasm rippled from head to toe. You couldn’t hide the rapid rise and fall of your chest or the tremble in your hands.

He pushed his forehead against your temple. Your name fell from his lips over and over as he muttered into your skin. He jolted you against the bench as his dusky voice filled your head. “Fucccckkkk.” He drew out the word as he slowed. You felt the warmth bloom inside of you as he came. 

He collapsed atop you so that you were crushed beneath him. His hand fell from your mouth and stroked along your cheekbone as he pressed his lips to your cheek. He grabbed your chin between thumb and index and turned your head straight. He kissed your lips again and stayed as he was.

“Will you dance for me again?” He murmured. “You’re so beautiful.”

You nodded. _Afraid. Confused._ You weren’t sure. But you couldn’t say no. Not to his face.

“Only me.” He kissed you again. “Promise?”

“I-I--” You were a stripper. You danced for dozens of men on any given day. Any less and you couldn’t afford groceries.

“I’ll pay,” He insisted. “Anything. Just me.” He breathed, “Just _you_. I only want you.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader focuses on her work.
> 
> Warnings: noncon sex, mentions of death. (nothing of note in this chapter)  
> This is dark!Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter already? Who is this mad woman? I do this. I get on track, then I fall off, then I get myself off on another fic. Look at me, I’m so flip floppy. 
> 
> Anyways, hope you all enjoy a second part! I’m super excited for this version of Steve. Please let me know what you think in a reblog/reply! <3 please and thank you.

[You didn’t remember what you said to Steve. ](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DrY2LUmLw_DQ&t=MDE5Y2RiYzM4N2E0M2Y4MTU1MDZhNDI1ZmRmZjVjNmIyNmQwODcyYSxyckEzaXBIeg%3D%3D&b=t%3AkQVRtM-9pl-pYhaHT2VTXA&p=https%3A%2F%2Fdarkficsyouneveraskedfor.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F186477691339%2Fgrace-too-2&m=1)What he said to you. You could barely recall getting up from the bench. Leaving through the door. He waited for you to go first. You knew because you still felt like he was watching you. Even with a door and time between you.

You cleaned yourself in the bathroom and found yourself back in the dressing room. On the same bench where you had readied yourself. Other girls were arriving, some on their way out. 

You sat and waited. For what, you didn’t know. You were numb. The world around you was muted. You replayed the scene in your head. The conversation. He was right; you were too honest for this work. So naive 

Celia entered in a sweat. She sat beside you. She smelled of cigarettes and gardenia perfume. She huffed and dug her pack of smokes out of her purse. 

“That bad?” She asked.

You shook your head. If anyone found out what happened, you’d be cut. It was a fireable offense to mingle with clients in the club. Beyond these walls, Leo didn’t care. It was free advertisement.

“I tried to warn you,” She offered a cigarette. You shook your head again.

“It wasn’t…that bad,” You weren’t sure if it was a lie for her or you. You slowly peeled off your glove. “How was the show?”

“Not bad…you did finish didn’t you? He was still there?”

“You can keep your tips,” You assured her. “Don’t worry.”

“Great,” She spoke with an unlit smoke between her lips as she stood. “Leo does the take for private shows. He’ll take his fee and get you your tip. I’ve never gotten less than 300.” She tested her lighter as she headed for the door. Sparks flew but no flame. “First time’s always awkward. Plus that guy was a bit of a dull one.”

She left you like that. Her footsteps faded on the other side of the door into silence. You balled up your gloves and tossed them in the bin. Your nails had torn entirely through the fingertips.

You undressed carefully. You felt fragile. Even with the prospect of dancing nude in front of a room of strangers, you had changed your first night in the bathroom. Now you didn’t care who saw you. 

When you finished you packed up your bag. You shoved your shoes in your locker and headed for Leo’s office. It was at the end of the hall of private rooms, just around the corner from the bathrooms and the bar. You knocked and waited.

A second knock. _Was he in?_ Finally the door shifted open. He was surprised but not unkind. He waved you in as he muttered a greeting. He sat behind his desk and picked up the still smoking cigarette. You could smell its acrid vanilla flavouring. He was the only person who could smoke inside the club.

“Heard Celia passed off her shift,” He grumbled, “Don’t like you girls changing it up without my say. Shit hits the fan. Money runs dry.” He puffed on the brown cigarette and blew a ring. “Especially you new girls. I like a few months under your belt before I send you in for a private showing.”

He reached over to his desk and slid an envelope out from under another. He tossed it towards you. You stepped up and stopped it before it could slide over the edge. You held it tentatively to the wood.

“That’s yours. Guy left a good tip.” He leaned back and butted out his cigarette. The rings on his fingers shone in the dingy light. “Next time, ask.” He pointed a thick finger at you. “Everything in this place goes through me. Understood?“

“Yes,” You lifted the envelope but didn’t look inside. You were tempted to leave it there. Walk out and never come back. You tucked it into your purse. “Thanks.”

“You start getting that kinda draw on the stage and you might just make it,” He pulled another cigarette out, the smoke of the previous still lingered. “Go on. Tell Celia she’s on the floor tomorrow. All night.”

“Right,” You left without another word. 

You closed the door behind you and crept back to the dressing room. Lena was on the bench. Her bra was behind her as she pulled a loose tank over her pert chest. She smiled at you. You bit down and tried not to look away.

“You seen Celia?” You thought she’d be back from her smoke by now.

“She just went back on. She’s tryna get a bit more before she goes. Crowd’s dyin’ down though.” She stood and slid a pair of shorts up her long legs.

“You on your way out?” You asked.

“Not yet…she drove me. I’m gonna chill til she’s done.” She sat back down and took out her phone. 

“Can you tell her Leo wants her on the floor tomorrow?” You leaned in the doorway and crossed your arms.

“Sure,” She shrugged. “He must be mad about quiet guy. He didn’t take off, did he?”

“No,” You answered. You pushed yourself straight and dropped your arms. “I gotta go.”

“See ya,” She said lazily as her eyes clung to her phone. You didn’t bother returning the sentiment.

You stepped out into the cool night air. It made you tired. You wanted to sleep. You looked around at the stragglers. The smell of tobacco and weed filled your lungs. You coughed and moved on. 

The buses were already out of service. They always were at the end of your shifts. You hailed a cab on the next block and slid across the leather seat. You recited your address and stared out the window. 

His blue eyes flashed across your mind. His voice whispered. ‘You’re so beautiful.’ You gulped and balanced your purse on your legs. You opened it and looked inside. 

You reached in and unstuck the flap of the envelope. You felt the bills and slipped a few out, there were at least a dozen within. Hundreds and fifties. You shoved them back down, grabbed your wallet, and rescinded your hand.

When the taxi stopped, you paid the driver. ‘Keep the change.’ You climbed the stairs to your sixth story apartment and twisted the three locks on the door. You took the envelope and hid it in your sock drawer. You didn’t open it again. Didn’t look inside.

You closed the drawer and collapsed into bed. Despite the heaviness in your limbs and the ache in the back of your head, you didn’t sleep. Couldn’t. You just stared into the dark and tried not to think.

-

Life was bleak before but it had grown so grey. You were adrift without a light. The depths below darker than the moonless sky. The neon lights of the club dulled to muted haze. A blur of bodies and voices.

Monique, known to patrons as Mimi, was on the stage. Her body moved around the pole with ease. It was second nature to her. As if she was born in glitter and satin. 

You were serving that night. Lap dances and beers. As you had almost every night for the last week. Tonight would be your first show since your debut in the private room. You were as nervous as your first night. 

You brought out your last tray of drinks and ignored the familiar heat along the cups of your bra. Rarely did you set down a glass without eyes on you. The man shoved a tip in the side of your panties and you thanked him before strutting away. 

You handed off your tray to Celia and headed for the dressing room. Lena was on her phone and Vanessa was changing into a silver bra and pair of frilled panties. The usual scene.

You sat and took off your heels. You replaced your pink push-up with a gold-studded black one. A pair of high-waisted black panties with golden applique to match. Your pointed stilettoes traded for tall black platforms.

You opened your locker and touched up your make-up in the magnetic mirror. You didn’t look like yourself in this place. Didn’t feel like yourself.

_To live is to suffer, to survive is to find some meaning in the suffering._

Was this the suffering Nietzsche spoke of? Or did you suffer to survive? What meaning could be in all of this? The silks, the laces, the leering eyes. 

There was no life in this place, only retreat from it. A den of cowardice. 

You sighed and fished out your phone from your purse. You opened your emails. One unread message. _We regret to inform you…_ you didn’t need to finish the rejection letter. You hit delete and dropped the phone back in your bag.

You closed your locker and leaned against the cool metal. You rubbed your forehead as you crossed an arm over your stomach. _A means to an end,_ you reminded yourself. This was a blip on your radar, it would soon fade into the sea and never be thought of again.

The door opened. The scent of vanilla-tinged tobacco preceded the swarthy club owner. Leo entered with a clap. 

"You girls are lively today,” He spun a brown cigarette between his fingers. Unlit. 

Lena nodded and Vanessa muttered a half-assed response. You didn’t move.

“Lena,” Leo sung, “You awake?”

Finally she lowered her phone and looked up at the man as he sniffed his cigarette. “What do you want?”

“A smile," He ventured and chuckled. Lena sighed. "What I want, need, rather, is for you…" 

He paused as he propped the cigarette between his lips. He felt around his jacket and pulled out a tarnished lighter. He lit the end of the smoke and took a long drag. 

He lifted a foot up on the bench next to Lena and leaned over her. Vanessa left without notice. ”…to put on your best thong.“

"Hmm?” Lena grumbled up at him. 

“I need you to cover this one,” He jabbed a finger towards you. “You got ten minutes to get dressed.”

You pushed yourself from the locker. _Shit. Were you being fired?_ Leo tossed girls as easily as cigarette butts. He puffed and dark smoke seeped from between his yellowed teeth. 

“What –” He raised as hand to silence you as he took another drag.

“Don’t you worry yourself, honey,” He slithered, “Ain’t done with ya yet.” He took one last deep inhale of smoke and bent to rub out the cigarette on the sole of his boot. “Room three. You got a request.”

He dropped his foot from the bench and snapped his fingers at Lena. “Get moving,” He glanced over at you as she huffed, “You too. He’s not gonna wait.”

-

The room was silent but for the low drone of music. It was as dark as the first time. All lights but the gentle pink hue that shone onto the platform had been turned off. You knew it was him. _Who else could it be?_

You hid a tremble as you stepped up into the glow. He wore the same shoes as last time. Brown leather, polished. You swayed your hips and grabbed onto the pole at the centre of the platform. You ignored him as you began your dance.

His soles shifted along the floor as he pushed his legs apart. He tapped his toe and sighed. You lowered your lashes and focused on your body.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come back sooner,” He said. You swallowed and gave a small nod as you continued. His gaze clung to you like the sweat on your skin. “Stop.”

You spun to halt at the sharp order. You looked to him but couldn’t see more than his shoes and his fingers gripping his right knee. You held onto the pole to keep yourself steady.

Silence. You gulped and waited. You didn’t know what to say. What to think. He cleared his throat.

“What did you study?” He asked suddenly. You tilted your head. You didn’t answer. His knuckles paled. “You said you went to school.”

“Lot of good that did me,” You snapped.

“Tell me.” He urged. You shook your head. You let go of the pole and backed away. He said your name in half-plea.

“My name is Cherie,” you corrected him. 

Another silence. You could feel the change in him. Heard it as he spoke. “I saw you…” he said. “Dancing for those other men.”

You looked away. A mirror shrouded in shadow lined the wall around the stage. All you could see was you frightened reflection. “It’s my job.”

“You said only _me_ ,” He was hurt.

“No, _you_ said that,” You hissed. You wouldn’t look at him. Even if you couldn’t see him.

“Do you like degrading yourself for strange men?” You flinched.

“ _You’re_ a strange man,” You turned to him at last. “I don’t know you. You don’t know me.”

“I want to know you,” He asserted. He said your name again and you snarled.

“Don’t. You can’t call me that here.” You interrupted. “You can’t do what you did. I could get fired.”

“I paid–”

“I don’t want your money. I can make my own. My way.” You sneered. “You’re at a strip club. I’m a stripper. What did you expect?”

He stood and you stumbled backwards. You spun and raced the door. Your platforms bent your ankles painfully. You turned the knob and looked back before running out into the hall.

He didn’t move beyond the platform. The shadows made him look even bigger than he was. You slammed the door and fell against the opposite wall. 

You shook as you waited for him to follow. The door didn’t budge. Not even a twitch. You breathed out and slowly limped down the hall. Your ears pricked at every creak and click.

-

You dressed hastily. You barely noticed Celia as she grabbed a smoke from her bag or Monique and Gloria loudly chattering. You tossed your shoes in your locker with the bubblegum pink stilettos.

You peeked out into the barroom. He wasn’t there. At least you didn’t think so. You had only seen him in shadows. _Would you recognize him in the light?_

You crept out to the end of the bar. You ordered a gin from Ozzie. He grunted and poured it sloppily before turning back to the man whistling at him. You tossed back the fiery alcohol and coughed. 

You were still shaking. You found your way past the bathrooms and stepped out into the side alley. Here Celia would have her smoke break with several other girls and a few patrons. 

You leaned against the brick and chewed your lip. _Was it better to leave or let Leo fire you in person?_

You were tempted to bum a smoke. Unhealthy habits were inevitable in this place. Headlights passed at the end of the alley and the smell of the sewer mixed with exhaust and tobacco.

“Y'alright?” Celia asked as she ashed her smoke and tossed it.

“Fine,” You lied. “Waiting for my take.”

“And you thought you’d get some fresh air?” She laughed. “Out here?”

You shrugged and kicked yourself away from the wall. “You still on the floor?” You asked.

“Another half hour,” She muttered, “I’m sure Leo’s got the cash by now. Get outta here. Get some sleep,” She turned and walked backwards as she approached the barroom. “You look like you could use it.”

She spun around and left you there. You sighed and glanced around the corner. Leo’s office door was open. You marched forward as the death toll called to you. Get it over with. Rip the band-aid off.

You knocked on the door frame. His chair whined as he turned behind his desk. For once he wasn’t smoking. He waved you in with two fingers and threw back the last gulp of whiskey in his tumbler.

“There you are,” He greeted and held in a belch. “Vanessa said you’d left already.”

“Just went out for a minute,” You clasped your hands in front of you and waited. He didn’t look mad but he rarely lost his cool. He had a nice even temperament. He was always an asshole.

“Short and sweet?” He ventured. “Like you. I must say you work quickly.” He pulled out a draw and revealed a small manilla envelope. “Your tip.”

“Tip?” You raised your eyebrows in confusion.

“For the show,” He jerked it towards you. “Unless you don’t want it. Lot of girls around here aren’t so selfless.”

You stared at the envelope. You had yet to open the last one again. You’d lift the flap when rent came around but for now, you couldn’t be tainted by it. You took it and squeezed it. It was as thick as the last.

“Anything else?” He asked as you stood their awkwardly. Stunned. 

“N-no,” You shook away the daze. “Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me. Thank your fanboy,” He chuckled. “I think he’ll be back.”

You faked a laugh. It wasn’t very convincing. You turned and stepped back into the hall. Music pumped and voice buzzed through the walls. “Close the door, will ya?”

You pulled shut the door and hung your head. You were just as certain he would be back.

-

Dread had become a cornerstone of your existence. Before you weren’t sure if Steve would actually reappear but now you were certain of it. A third visit was inevitable. _Would it be another week or would he be eager for another confrontation?_ That’s was what it would be. That was all it could be.

You trudged in at nine. You were due for a show. Maybe he’d be in the audience. Waiting for you. _Would he dare another private show? If he did, would you go?_

Most of the day had been spent in bed. Celia was right, you needed sleep. But it never came. Shallow spurts but nothing more. You glanced around the barroom as you passed through. You didn’t see him. You ordered a gin and secreted it down the hall. Leo didn’t like drinks in the dressing room.

You opened the door. A full house. Lena, Celia, Monique, Vanessa, Shandi…the usual crowd. Several girls were already out on the floor but their mess lingered with that of the girls readying for their shifts. A shock of pink caught your eyes. You leaned to peek around Monique as she moved. A glass vase you had never seen before with a bouquet of delicate roses sat on the small vanity shared by too many girls.

“You’re here!” Lena greeted and you jumped. “Aren’t they lovely?” 

“Flowers?” You asked in confusion. “I guess.”

“You don’t like ‘em?” You shrugged. They didn’t belong here. They’d shrivel in a place like this. “Well, they’re for you.”

“For me?” You echoed.

“They came just as I got here,” She explained, “Special delivery.”

“For me?” You repeated. “Who–”

“Well we’ve all been waiting for you to get here to find out,” She interjected. “There’s a note.”

You knew who it was. The pit in your stomach was assurance enough. Your instincts were getting better but it was much too late for that. You set your purse down on the bench, the gin beside it, and crossed the room. A hush fell over the girls as they watched you. They _had_ been waiting.

You slid the envelope out its plastic stem. If it hadn’t been sealed with a small red sticker, it wouldn’t have been such a mystery. 

“Don’t get many gifts around here. Well, nothing like that. Thongs, maybe, a bra condoms…but flowers?” Vanessa laughed. “You’ve got yourself a true admirer.”

You tore open the envelope. The card within lost a corner in the process. You could feel the eyes. You hated that feeling. It reminded you of the way he watched you. Hidden in the shadows as he stalked you. The wolf and the lamb.

You stared at the slanted letters before they came clear. Cursive pressed so hard it indented the thick paper. 

_‘I’m sorry. -S.’_

You crumbled the card and envelope together and tossed them in the bin. Celia gasped and Lena squinted. The rest of the girls murmured in envious disgust. You took the vase and stormed out the door. Lena and several other girls followed.

You left through the side door, past the smokers and to the dumpster. You lifted the crystal and dumped the roses in with the bags of cocktail napkins, cigarettes, and tampons. You took the vase and threw it against the side of the club. It shattered and rained down onto the pavement. 

You grunted and stepped back with an angry huff. “Next time, send them back,” You turned and pushed past the girls. 

Accusations of ungratefulness,suggestions of an ex, another of your own insanity flurried in your ears. Every word you ignored as you stomped back into the club. You were here to do your job, not entertain the fantasies of an obsessive loner.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader’s past collides with her present.
> 
> Warnings: noncon sex, mentions of death. (nothing of note in this chapter)  
> This is dark!Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty. More stripper!AU, more sickly sweet but psychotic Steve. Let’s get it.
> 
> Anyways, hope you enjoy this chapter! I’m super excited for this version of Steve. Please let me know what you think in a reblog/reply! <3 please and thank you.

[Time is elusive.](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DV1Pl8CzNzCw&t=Njc4MDk5YjQ1MGM2NGE3ZWI4ZDE2MmY1MmY5ZmU0NjNjYTJlMDdmMSwzMXIwNDN5OA%3D%3D&b=t%3AkQVRtM-9pl-pYhaHT2VTXA&p=https%3A%2F%2Fdarkficsyouneveraskedfor.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F186542673424%2Fgrace-too-3&m=1) Five years can feel like fifty. Or it can flit by in a second. It could even feel like both.

You stared at the recently renovated building. It had once been warm. Worn but welcoming. Now it was just a shell. _Cat’s Corner_ cafe had been replaced with a trendy juice bar. The moniker read _‘Squeeze’_ in bubbly letters. Essie, like all things, had outlived her worth. The old lady was gone and in her place were the up-and-coming hipsters.

The old apartment was gone. It was now the second level of the bar. Open after four when they started serving stronger drinks. You once slept where people now converged like ants in a hill. The creaky old building was now a burgeoning hive.

When you stepped inside another wave of nostalgia washed over you. The aroma of coffee was long faded. The fruity smell of berries and citrus filled the air. The low hum of the cafe was now a buzz of pretention.

Essie would’ve hated this. You hated this. No picture of kittens in the corner, no bookcase with dusty second-hand paperbacks, no character. A sleek artificiality glossed over with buzzwords. Vegan, gluten-free, save the earth; the fine print below too small to decipher.

You were here though. You dragged yourself out of bed early to come. Another sleepless night. Hours spent trying not to think of him only to find yourself back in the private room. Your words swirled in your head. The memories of the cafe and your life before. When the world had yet to wear away to grey.

_Why had you told him about the cafe?_ You hadn’t thought of it in ages. Not since you were a sophomore in your undergrad. When the nights and days were just as blurry but a whole lot brighter.

You approached the tall glass counter. No more muffins, only dry granola bars; pre-packaged and ready to be forgotten at the bottom of a gym bag. You scanned the menu, the prices made you wince. _Whatever_. You’d have to open those envelopes eventually.

“Medium dragon fruit zinger,” You ordered and dug around in your purse. “Um…debit?” You weren’t sure you had enough change and you’d hate to count out dimes in a place like this. “One sec, once I find my…”

“Here,” A shadow appeared beside you, an arm across the counter, bill proffered to the barista. “Keep the change.”

Your mouth fell open. You knew by the voice it was him. You didn’t need to look but you did. In the light, he wasn’t so sinister. His blue eyes were like glass and his perfect square jaw rivaled the works of Michelangelo. He was a statue in flesh. He was a gargoyle concealed in the form of David.

He smiled at you. You frowned.

“No,” You grabbed the bill before the barista could. You shoved it into Steve’s chest. His hand settled over yours and you quickly forced the money into his hand. You recoiled and returned to your search. “I said debit.”

You finally found the fraying leather wallet. You pulled the snap open and tapped your plastic on the reader swiftly. You stirred around in the pocket for a handful of quarters and dropped them in the tip jar. You could feel him beside you. Still; simmering.

You stepped down the counter to await your order. He followed. You crossed your arms and didn’t look at him. You turned so that your shoulder blocked him.

“You didn’t like the roses?” He asked.

You blinked and watched the barista as he loaded the juicer. Your cheek twitched and he moved closer. You were already at the end of the long counter.

“You’re following me,” You accused.

“No,” He replied, “I was here when you came in.”

You didn’t say anything. You should’ve cancelled your order. Too late now.

“I found this place a couple days ago…Not exactly what I was expecting.” He said, “I found an old picture in a newspaper and…”

“Why? Why are you here?” You scratched your chin anxiously as the juicer whirred. “What do you want from me?”

He thought for a moment. He had a lot to say but was trying to choose the right thing. “To talk?”

“Talk?” You echoed as the barista filled a cup and popped a lid on it. He set the purple concoction on the counter top and a paper straw beside it.

“Please,” He begged, “Here,” He looked around, “Where everyone can see…you’re safe.”

“And I should be worried about that?” You countered.

He shook his head and sighed. You took your drink and stabbed the straw through the lid. “I’d never hurt you. Ever.”

You turned to him sharply and glared. _Then why did you?_ You thought but sucked on the straw instead. “Five minutes. Five minutes and you leave me alone. It’s over. Done.”

He gulped. His jaw tensed and his eyes fell. He nodded slowly. “Okay,” He accepted quietly, “Will you sit?”

“Sure,” You grumbled and drank some more. He led you to the corner. A half-finished green juice sat on the table. He pulled your chair out for you. You sat reluctantly and set down your cup. He took the seat across from you and stared. You looked out the window behind him.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” He spoke at last. “I close my eyes, I wake up, you’re always there. With me.”

“Stop.” You snapped and he blanched. His blue eyes rounded and you watched as his throat constricted.

“Why did you throw away the flowers?”

“Why have you been watching me?” You hissed.

He shifted in his seat and rubbed his neck. “I…need you. I can’t stand to be away from you.” He was fidgety. Anxious. “This, this is something. Can’t you feel it? There’s something here. Something meant to be.”

“You’re just another lonely man who walked into a strip club,” You sneered. “I’m a stripper, you’re a customer. Simple as that.”

He sat back and dropped his hands to his lap. Not defeated, merely regrouping. “Then why did you tell me your name? Why did you say all that?”

“Because I was stupid.” You returned. “Stupid enough to be nice to someone in a place where nice gets you hurt.”

“Did I?” He wondered. “Did I hurt you?”

You took a drink. You thought. You recalled the night you didn’t want to think of. Had he truly hurt you? Had he been unkind? It didn’t matter, what he did was wrong.

“You could’ve gotten me fired,” You said evenly.

“I paid–”

“I’m not a prostitute. I dance, I don’t–” You sighed. “I know I’m just a stripper but I keep my work professional. I earn my money. I don’t need your charity.”

“It’s not charity, it’s–”

“A fee. Goddamn it, Steve. Get it through your head. You paid for a dance and I gave you a dance. The same thing I do for dozens of men a night.” You stood and straightened your purse across your shoulder. You took your drink from the table as he rose. “There’s nothing between use. Nothing more than money.”

He called your name but did not stop you as you brushed past him. You paused and looked back at him. “Leave me alone. Got it? Just go away.”

You left him there and stormed out onto the street. Funny to think you were in one of the very scenes you used to eavesdrop on. The secondhand drama you had so relished in. _Oh, to be the girl in the corner again._ To be the observer, not the observed.

You tossed your juice in the trash as you turned the corner and glanced over your shoulder. You half-expected him to follow you, but he didn’t. You were alone.

-

The neon light along the bar was hot against your stomach as you waited for your drinks. Doubles on rocks and one straight. You balanced your tray and set the glasses atop it as you thanked Ozzie. The club was busy; loud. Yet it felt grim.

“Try a smile,” He winked. That was grand from him. The man’s goatee barely concealed his constant glower. You grumbled and walked away.

You crossed to the three men right before the stage. Vanessa was on the pole and the men barely noticed as you placed the drinks before them. Your tip sent towards the stage and you retreated. _Whatever._ There were enough men in here to pad your panties.

Speaking of. A man with a cap pulled low over his face waved you over with two fingers. He kept his chin down as he leaned against the wall, sat sideways in his chair. You started to walk towards him but stopped dead. The line of his shoulders, his posture, the way he gripped his right knee. _Fuck._

Lena elbowed you as she squeezed past. “Hey, kinda in the way there,” She snapped, “Go on then. Place is too busy to be standing around.” With her free hand she smacked your ass, her knew manager position was little more than title. Still, it had fed her already overgrown ego.

“I…”

“Just go.” She hissed. “Unless you’d like to clean the toilets.”

You shook your head. Power could go to the heads of even the most lowly of dictators. You clung to your tray and approached the solitary man. He slowly raised his head as you neared and his lips twitched. Dark shades covered his eyes and he removed his hat as if it were some grand reveal.

“What do you want?” You sneered.

“Just a beer,” Steve evaded you smoothly.

You sighed. He knew what you meant. “What kind?”

“Whatever’s on tap,” He shrugged and held out a folded bill with his index and middle fingers. “Keep the change.”

You snatched the ten and spun away. You went to the bar and slammed it down. “Coors, watered down please.” Ozzie chuckled and took the bill. He slid over a pint overflowing with foam and a handful of ones.

“Must be worse than he looks,” He nodded over your shoulder. “Girls were just over here marveling at him.”

“Ugh,” You shoved your tray behind the bar and took the single pint.

You looked around and noticed Monique’s none so subtle peek as she recited her order to the bartender. Despite his efforts, Steve had attracted the attention of every girl in the joint. What with his unpocked skin and clean fingernails, he was every stripper’s dream.

You crossed to him and placed the beer beside him. He tilted his head and smirked as he dipped his finger in the foam. There wasn’t much beer to be had. You dropped the change beside his drink and backed away.

He caught your wrist. “I said keep it.”

“Don’t want it,” You ripped your arm away and looked over your shoulder. Nicki, the bouncer, caught your eye and the movement. He was ready to pounce at another touch. “You can’t touch.”

Steve followed your gaze to Nicki. He let out a soft laugh and leaned forward to take his wallet from his back pocket. He slid a fifty out and held it out to you. “Fine, no touching.” He waved the bill, “Just a dance.”

“I’ll get Mimi, she’s our best girl–”

“I don’t want a dance from Mimi,” He tucked the fifty into the waist of your panties; the only contact abided in this place. “I want a nice little number from Cherie.”

He set his wallet on the table and took his sunglasses off. He folded them and tucked them neatly beside his wallet. He smirked at you and leaned back against the wall as he spread his legs. He rubbed his thigh as he stared expectantly.

“You’re a stripper, I’m a customer,” He said, “So…”

Nicki had lost interest. Another transaction. Money exchanged, it was no longer his problem. You pushed your tongue against your teeth in irritation and began to sway. Your eyes dulled and your body went numb. It was second-nature by now. He was just another man, just another wallet.

But he wasn’t.

“I told you to leave me alone,” You spoke as you ran your hands down your body.

“I like this place,” He said, his eyes followed the trail of your fingers, the grind of your hips. “Quite popular, it seems.”

“There are other bars,” You kept your voice low and turned. You wiggled your ass as you looked around. No one else seemed to notice the terse interaction.

“I know,” You turned back to him and he leaned forward. His eyes on your face again. “But you’re _here_.”

You stopped. His tone sent goosebumps up your arms. You stepped back and your heel wobbled under you. You stumbled and fell to your knees. He stood and grabbed your elbows. He lifted you back to your feet. You shoved him away.

“Don’t!” You yelled loud enough to be heard over the music. “Get away!”

Nicki was on his way over. He inserted himself between you and Steve as you backed away. “There a problem?” He crossed his thick arms but he still looked tiny next to Steve.

“Yes,” You spat, “Take him out.”

Steve sidestepped Nicki and reached over to gather up his things. “I’m going,” He assured the bouncer. He hooked the sunglasses in the vee of his tee shirt and pulled on his cap. He tucked away his wallet and sent one last peek over Nicki’s shoulder.

He pushed his shoulders back and marched away. You watched as he disappeared through the door. Nicki shook his head and turned to you. “You okay?”

“Fine,” You crossed your arms and shivered. “He just…wouldn’t follow the rules.”

“Mmm,” He nodded and hooked his thumbs in his jeans. “I’ll make sure Leo knows.”

-

Leo had obviously watched a few too many episodes of the Sopranos. His office was a parody of the old gangster films. And while he may one day rival Brando’s girth, he’d never match his dignity.

The vanilla cigarette hung from his hips as he leaned back in his chair. Smoke surrounded him in a cloud and he coughed as he drew the smoke away from his mouth.

“So, that little scene today…” He began as he tapped his rings on the desk. “Entertaining but not the kinda show we like here.”

“I told him not to touch–”

“And you’re real name?” He interjected. Another puff, another hack.

“I–” You gulped. _Shit._

“He’s a hard man to miss. Not exactly subtle,” He flicked the ash from his cigarette and stubbed it out in the tray. “Ozzie said he was asking about you couple days ago. Lena mentioned flowers, too.”

“I…he…he’s crazy, okay? I told him not to come back.” Your heart sank. “I told him to stop.”

“Well, he might have broken the rules tonight but seems you crossed the line first,” Leo smoothed his gelled hair beneath his palm. “There’s a reason we have rules. For _everyone_.”

“I…I–”

“Enough,” He warned as he balled his fist and rested it on the arm of his chair. “If he didn’t pay so well, you’d be gone already.”

You lowered your lashes and held your head in your hand. “Fuck, Leo,” You pushed yourself up and clasped your hands together. “I’m so stupid. I know I broke the rules but I thought–I didn’t think.”

“You’re right, you didn’t.” He took another smoke from his pack. “This is your one fuck up.” He held up a finger. “Every girl gets one.”

“I’m not fired?” You asked.

“No,” He lit his smoke and inhaled deeply. “But you’re in early tomorrow. I want you on the floor at seven.”

“Okay,” You stood with a breath of relief. “Thank you, Leo.”

“I mean it, not another fuck up,” He growled. “God, you girls. I swear…”

You let him finish his thought in private as you hurried from his office. You just wanted to go home and forget it all.

The few girls in the dressing room went silent as you entered. You knew what they were thinking. Had heard as much already. ‘If he had touched me, I wouldn’t have minded so much.’

You changed without a word, their whispers loud enough to hear. You left them as they were. It was better not to acknowledge them. In this place, scandal died as quickly as it appeared.

Celia was in the smokers’ pit regaling the other girls with the tale of her last private show and you went unnoticed as your flat soles padded over the concrete.

It was almost four. By the time you got home to bed, the world would be waking. You reached the next block and searched the street for a cab. Headlights approached, a silver car with tinted windows. You let it pass and it pulled in not far from where you stood. The engine faded into the depths of the barren parking garage.

A cab approached but it’s light was off. You sighed and crossed your arms. The taxis were usually lined up down the street. Well, it was a Monday night. Rather, Tuesday morning. Finally, another turned the corner. You stepped up to the curve and waved your hand.

You were pulled back before the driver could see you in the softening dim. You melted into the shadows, trapped in the thick arms. You pushed your head back against the broad chest as you were turned down the alley. A large hand covered your mouth. You had felt it before; roughened but soft.

He pressed you to the brick, his body flush against yours as his breath filled your ears. He nuzzled your hair and inhaled your scent. His lips touched the top of your crown as if to lay a kiss there. You pulled at his wrists but he was as strong as ever.

You recalled that night clearly. His body atop yours, his hand stifling your moans, his dusky whispers. The same that brushed across your ear now.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Steve whispered, “I just want _you_.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader faces Steve.
> 
> Warnings: noncon sex, mentions of death. 
> 
> This is dark!Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty. Here’s the final chapter. It made most sense to keep this series short. Hope y'all enjoyed the ride.
> 
> Anyways, hope you enjoy this chapter! Please let me know what you think in the comments! <3 please and thank you

You slowly reached up to grab Steve’s hand. His scent, his voice, his touch, gave him away. You didn’t move his hand, only squeezed it until his grip lightened. You trembled and slowly he let his arm fall, his palm a threat along your throat.

“Steve,” You kept your tone even, “What are you doing?”

He didn’t answer. He turned you and shoved you against the wall. You stared up at him and swallowed your fear. His hand shook as he cradled your chin. “I don’t want to hurt you,” He repeated.

“Then…what do you want?” You breathed.

“I…” He searched the brick next to your head. “I wanna talk but–but this time you need to listen.”

His thumb pressed to your cheek bone and you nodded. You could feel the thinly restrained frustration. “We can talk, Steve. Let’s talk.”

“Okay.” He grabbed your arm and yanked you from the wall. He dragged you with him as he turned and marched you around the back of the parking garage. He kept you ahead of him as he descended the stairs and led you around the cars. “In.”

“Steve, what–”

“So we can talk,” He asserted as he opened the door, “In private.”

You sat in the car. He closed the door and you shook at the force of it. You grabbed the handle and the lock clicked. Trapped. You looked over as Steve shoved the key in the driver’s side and dropped his weight into his seat.

“Thank you.” You said gently as you quickly removed your hand from the door.

He blinked and looked to you as he angled the keys along the slot. “For what?” He asked.

“For taking me home,” You kept your voice sweet thought it threatened to waver. “It’s late. Dangerous.”

He chewed his lip and turned the engine. He gripped the wheel and gulped. “Of course, I couldn’t let you walk home alone.”

“I live up on Harald,” You played along. “Just a few blocks…lots of time to talk.”

“Harald,” He repeated as he drove through the parking unit and up the ramp. “Alright.”

You watched him. The shadows rippled over him. The street lights cast him in gloom through the tinted windows. His jaw was square; determined. A twitch betrayed his impatience. He turned the first corner and you were reassured of your destination.

“I kill men for a living.” He said. The statement was frightening and yet he said it without remorse. A fact. A thing that was. “Some would argue that I save lives, but really I take them. There can be no balance. Death is death. No life can be traded for another.”

You watched him. His eyes clung to the road. Searching. Distant. He turned again. Closer.

“About a year ago, I was sent to mandated therapy. I killed a target the higher-ups wanted alive. He was unarmed; sleeping. I could’ve taken him without a drop of blood. Without a struggle. Before he even knew what was happening. I killed him anyway. But people told me, the lives I took paid for those of the innocent. He would hurt no one else.”

You turned and watched the dark buildings pass. The sleeping giants deaf to your trespass. You clasped your fingers together. A chill went through you. You listened, as he had that first night.

“Dr. Carroll said I needed something else. Something for me. To help me detach. Something besides my work. Different people, different places. Something besides the exercises and briefings. It all revolved around that one thing that had come to mean so little; death.

"I tried drawing. I used to keep a little sketchbook between missions. There’s only so many trees, so many houses you can draw before they all just blend together. Tried painting too. Tedious. Then writing. Couldn’t even keep a journal. It was all just…blank.

"So I started going to the park. I’d go for a jog then sit by the fountain. I’d just watch, you know? Everyone has a story but you can’t just read it. So you start making them up in your head, start living them as you watch the blond pass by with her dog or the man with the pressed suit on his phone. 

"But you can never really know them. Even if you asked, they wouldn’t tell you. And if they did, they’d be lying. All these strangers, they look so happy, like they have it all, and they would tell you they do. And I’m sitting there, lost. And I can’t pretend because I know. Because I can’t ignore the truth.”

“Steve, you missed the turn,” You said softly as he passed Harald. You crane your neck to watch the street fade.

“So I go where the lost go. To drink. To ignore the truth. But the stuff doesn’t even give me a buzz. But i just wanted to feel something. Ever since I came out of the ice, I’ve been numb. 

"The first night, the dancer was just like those people in the park. A liar. The second one was just as fake. Just as tiring. And then, there was you.”

He turned and your heart began to race. “Steve, you’re going the wrong way.”

“I knew you in an instant. The moment you stepped into the light. You were afraid. You didn’t belong there. Like me. Lost. And you spoke to me. You were honest. And then I touched you…and I felt everything. I felt you.”

“Please,” You whispered and touched his hand as he rested it on the clutch. “Turn around.”

“Dr. Carroll says we run from happiness. We spend our lives searching for what makes us happy and when we find it, we run the other way because we’re afraid. Because it feels like an end and we don’t like when things end.”

“Where are you taking me, Steve?” You pleaded.

“We would rather live in misery, because then we can dream of happiness. We can pretend. But when we reach that happiness, what else is left for us? What else is there to dream of but reality. That is a grim thought to think there could ever be a limit to our dreams.”

“Take me home, please, Steve,” Your stomach felt endless. A pit that grew deeper with each word. With every spin of the tires.

“I am taking you home,” He said. “I know it’s scary but…this is it. Your happiness.” He stopped and looked to you. He reached out and stroked your cheek. “It’s me.”

“No, please,” You grabbed the lock and he was quick to hit the switch again. “This isn’t–Steve please.”

“You don’t want that,” He hit the gas and carried on. “All those strange men, the flashing lights, the tips. You’re worth more than that. You deserve more than that… 

"It’s like Dr. Carroll said, we undersell ourselves. We close ourselves off to opportunity when it’s right in front of us. We cling to familiarity because we think it’s safe.” He reached over and took your hand in his, his other on the wheel. “But you will always be safe with me. I promise. You will always be happy.”

-

It was light when Steve turned the car off. He pulled up to a house outside the city. Here they all looked the same. The yards were groomed green and the siding the same shade of eggshell. You had spent the drive in silence. In fear.

He got out. You thought of running but where would you go? How far could you get out here? He opened your door and offered his hand. You stared at the lines of his palm then looked up into his eyes. They sparkled down at you. Reflected you.

You thought of the club. Of the flashing lights and smell of stale beer. The alley filled with smoke and shadows. What could he see in you? The stripper in her cheap plastic shoes and skimpy lace panties. 

You took his hand. It was all you could do. There was rarely a time in life when you had a choice. Put your head down and move on. You could think that you did but really, there was no control; no order. It wasn’t fate, not luck, only the way it went. 

The tide carried the brush along and it flowed down the falls or caught along the shore but none could steer its course.

Steve led you up the walk. It was the kind of house you saw on billboards. Or in movies. White picket fence, pearly windows, painted terrace. The grass was rich and green, finely cut, and the hedges neatly trimmed.

“The night I met you, I started drawing again. I couldn’t get you out of my head. I had to see you again even if it was on paper." 

He unlocked the door and stepped inside. There was a mirror in the entryway. Your reflection stared back at your. Traces of liner and glitter along your eyelids. Natural shadows beneath. You looked out of place here.

"And I found a hobby. The reason it took me so long to come back. I wanted to surprise you." 

He took your purse and hung it on a hook beneath the mirror. He removed his shoes and jacket and waited for you to do the same. He led you across the soft carpet. Past a tidy kitchen and cozy den. To a door that opened to a set of stairs. 

This was how it would go. That night you had offered to cover Celia. No predestiny, only dominoes crashing into each other. Steve opened the door and turned back to you.

"That night…you and me…it was…” You couldn’t explain it; scary, confusing, surreal. You hung your head. You gave up. You were done fighting. There was nothing to fight for.

“I want to show you everything I did for you.” He waved you through first. 

You peered down the stairs and sighed. You took it a step at a time. He flipped a switch and the narrow way lit up. The door clicked behind him. He followed just behind. 

You met the bottom and looked around. It was bigger than your apartment. A rug beneath a sofa and two armchairs. A coffee table at their centre. An artificial fireplace completed the picture. 

Behind the sofa was a large bed, dressed in magenta. Separating it from the living area was a pole. Metal from ceiling to floor. A door to the right, a smaller one to the left. A house beneath a house.

There were frames along the walls. Pencil sketches of you; sitting, standing, dancing. A few with him too. His arms around you, his lips on yours. The lines were eloquent but frantic.

The breath went out of you. Your grabbed for the wall and held your chest. He stretched his arm around you. You shivered.

“I saw where you live. Alone.” His voice was low and his breath tickled your scalp as it glossed over your hair. “Sad. Dangerous.” He turned you to him and moved your hand to his chest. “I can protect you. You don’t need those strange men. You need me.”

“Please, let me go, Steve,” You spoke softly to him. “What would Doctor Carroll think?”

“I told him about you. He said I should take the leap. Commit myself to relationship. For real.” He smiled and leaned in. His lips brushed your forehead. “He said I shouldn’t let my work keep me from the life I’ve always wanted.”

“And what about what I want?”

“Do you know what you want? You want those men leering at you? Groping you? Throwing their change at you? I’m offering you a way out. Isn’t that what you want?” He snaked his other arm around you and pulled you flush to him.

You searched his face. The lines along his forehead were faint. A troubled man grasping onto a last strand of hope. A man lost and desperate for direction.

“Of course I don’t but–”

“Dance for me again.” He whispered. “Please. Just you and me. Like our first time.”

You inhaled and he felt the shudder flow through you. He nuzzled your temple.

“You tasted like strawberries. You felt like paradise. And when you came, I felt it entirely. So soft, so warm. I’ve never been happier than that moment.” He grabbed your chin and turned your face up. He kissed your lips and pulled away slowly. “Please, dance for me again.”

“Okay.” You could barely speak. Maybe if you danced for him, he would listen then. If not, well, you suspected a refusal would do nothing.

He guided you around the sofa. He left you by the pole and crossed to a set of switches near the bed. He dimmed the overhead lights and flipped on a single pink spotlight above the pole.

He sat at the edge of the bed. He gripped his knees and waited. You grabbed the pole and rounded it. His eyes followed you. You felt them on you.

“Tell me about the last time you were happy,” He said. 

You began to move around the pole, hooked your leg and spun as you thought. You paused and cloyingly removed your tee shirt. 

“When I graduated, I had a job offer. It was my dream job. I was elated. I’d be able to rent a nice apartment, I’d be on a set career path, I’d have the perfect life." 

You pushed your tits together and his hand slid up his leg. 

"My first day, my supervisor shoved his hand up my skirt. I told him I wasn’t interested. He fired me. I reported him and…he got me blacklisted.

"I figured that if I wanted to make my money with my ass, I might as well be forthright about it." 

You chuckled sardonically and wiggled your pants down your legs. You bent over and traced the length of your leg as you came back up. You kicked them away. Nothing but your grey cotton panties and worn black bra.

You heard his breath catch as you reached back to unhook your bra. You slid it down your arms and shimmied. He rubbed his crotch as you tossed the bra away.

"Do you think…you could be happy here?”

His question hung in the air as you hooked your thumbs under your panties. You paused and looked around. The pictures of you, the pole, the bed. 

“Yes,” You lied and pushed your panties down. “Very.”

You let the cotton fall to your ankles and stepped out of the panties. You were used to being naked in front of men but with him, you felt entirely exposed. He had seen deeper than your skin.

He stood and neared you. You backed into the pole. His fingers traced along your cheekbones and tickled your neck. He dragged them along your tits, your nipples hardened. You stomach, your waist, your hips.

He fell to his knees before you. “I want you to be happy.” His hands glided around your hips and squeezed your ass as he pulled you closer. “I can make you happy.”

His kissed your hip bone and nibbled along your vee. He repeated the motion along your other side. His fingertips danced along the back of your thighs and he buried his nose in your vee.

He slid his hand up between your knees and nudged your thighs apart. His hot breath singed your flesh. You looked down as he bowed to you. Worshipped you. 

He took your leg and slung it over his shoulder. He held your thigh against his head and inhaled your scent. He tasted you. His tongue was shy. Cool against your hot flesh.

He hummed and delved deeper. He lapped at you and you gasped. You grabbed his shoulder as you teetered. His mouth sent tendrils through you. They wrapped around your limbs and choked all strength from you.

He ran two fingers along your thigh. He pressed them between your folds just beneath his tongue. He pushed along your entrance and slipped inside. You squeaked and twitched in surprise.

He curled his fingers and suckled on your clit. You were stunned at the sensation. Even more surprised by the moan which escaped you. He toyed with you. He purred into you as he drank you in.

You closed your eyes and the room faded. From view, from mind, from reality. You leaned into him as you came. He didn’t stop until you were squirming against him. 

You were weak; shaky. Surrender felt so good. So right. What use was it to resist? How much had your obstinacy cost you already?

Steve scooped you up in your arms. You cried out in surprise. He carried you to the bed and laid you down. He looked down at you and pulled off his shirt. You stared at his broad chest, his figure was hazy. He was a dream. 

His belt jingled. You closed your eyes and touched your goosebumped stomach. You listened to the rustle of fabric. You waited for the heat to suffocate you.

He laid beside you, his bare skin against yours. He kissed you gently. His hand fluttered over your body. He lingered along your nooks and crannies. He felt every inch of you. Breathed you in.

He climbed over you. His lips stayed on yours, his tongue dipped inside. A hum came from him. He was between your legs. He felt around blindly. You were even wetter.

He slid two fingers between your folds. He pushed your lips apart and lowered his hips. His cock slid between his fingers. You reached up and pushed on his chest. You remembered the bench. The way he had kissed you then too.

He entered you slowly. He groaned as his lips parted from yours. He sank into you and cradled your face with his hand. Your arms were trapped between your bodies. He rocked his hips carefully.

He kissed you deeper. He nibbled your lip and ran his fingers through your hair. He pulled away and sat back. He moved his pelvis faster as he looked down at you. His eyes turned dark. You could see yourself in his pupils. So small. Helpless.

He bent your legs over his and sped up. He grabbed your wrists and pushed them above your head. His breath hitched and his moans turned to growls. Your walls began to ache.

His grip tightened and he bent over you. He dragged his teeth along your neck and bit down on your shoulder. You cried out. He slammed into you. Every thrust was harder than the last. He nipped at your flesh. Sharp pinches along your chest and neck.

He lifted his head. His golden hair was damp with his sweat. He looked wild. Animalistic. He rutted into you. He grunted through gritted teeth. Your entire body tensed against him.

“Can you feel it?” He panted. “You’re meant for me. You fit me. You…”

He snarled and let go of your wrists. His pupils were smokey as if in a trance. He grabbed your ankles and pushed them up. He rose on his knees as he fucked you. 

You whined as he forced your feet up by your head. He plunged into you. You gulped for air and your nerves buzzed. You held the back of your thighs and came again. 

You felt it. The pain. The pleasure. The escape. 

He released your legs. They fell around him and pulled you up into his lap. He worked into you from below and guided your hips with his hands. He kissed you. Your chest rubbed against his. You felt his heart beat in time with yours.

He exclaimed as he came. He hung his head back as his warmth burst within you and flowed through your veins. He slowed your body and laid back with you atop him.

You were breathless. Defeated.

You looked down at him and he smiled. He pulled your head down beside his. He pet your hair as he caught his breath.

“Only me.” He said. “Promise?”

Your eyes widened. The dark room flashed in your mind. The same smell of sweat. The same confusion. The same man.

“Promise.” You resigned. “Only you.”

…

_[Grace, too](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fyoutu.be%2Fd18UWu4dRv4&t=M2M0YjBiYzc1Njg5YWVmMTNkZDM1NGVhMTk1YTA4N2VjNDRiNGI0OCxLSDJ2ZU43bQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AkQVRtM-9pl-pYhaHT2VTXA&p=https%3A%2F%2Fdarkficsyouneveraskedfor.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F187621002544%2Fgrace-too-4&m=1) _

**Author's Note:**

> Psst, please pop in and leave a comment or kudos. Love yas!


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